Apocalypse
by Mockingjay Rose
Summary: Humanity is at the brink of extinction from a zombie outbreak caused by the Millefiore-Vindice alliance. After five years of fighting, the Vongola is facing defeat at the hands of their formidable enemy. But by a miracle, Tsuna and his friends are transported ten years into the future, where their Vongola Rings could help save the world. AU, TYL


**APOCALYPSE**

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><p><strong>Prologue - At World's End<strong>

Gokudera Hayato trudged past the first security barrier, his dull grey eyes staring absentmindedly at the floor. His footsteps echoed along the tiles, forming an eerie score with the ventilation system that whirred and wheezed. The air was stale and suffocating. The Vongola's hidden base in Japan was located deep underground, colonised by members of the Family, their allies, and civilian survivors they had rescued. Other parts of the base, such as the security checkpoints, reeked of industrial disinfectant and bleach. Above him, on the low ceiling, dim yellow lights flickered at him in a sleepy greeting.

He turned right, sneaking past a guard room and into a metal chamber. He squinted as the blinding green beams that guarded the second security barrier stabbed at his vision. Sensing his approach, the green light flashed red in warning. Gokudera stifled a yawn and scanned his identity card at the latch. After a pause, the lights dissipated, rendering the chamber hauntingly silent without its humming. Wasting no time, the silveret passed through the barrier and closed his eyes as a mist of chemical spray rained down on him from the ceiling. The disinfectant burned his nose, as it always did. With a sigh, he continued forward, past the final barrier and up the elevator that would take him above ground.

He leaned against the elevator wall, trying to ignore the brown and crimson stains within the small compartment. The place smelt of more than blood, sweat and tears – it had the odour of death and decay. Strewn on the floor by his feet were several bandages and slings from Mafioso who had returned from battle. There was even a large first-aid kit located beside the elevator buttons, half empty. On top of it was a lavender teddy bear, which Gokudera vowed to return to its owner, with hope that it would bring back the child's smile.

The elevator shook, starting its ascent. In the back of his head, Gokudera could suddenly hear gunshots and the gut-wrenching sounds of Flames lacerating and burning through flesh. And the screaming never ceased – the roars for vengeance and the agonised cries of the cornered. The silveret let his back slide down the wall and huddled on the floor, clutching his head and forcing the images to go away. One could never forget such vividly graphic and horrific scenes from war. Behind his closed eyes, he could see _Them_, the undead soldiers created by the Millefiore Family, skin raw and flaky, outstretched claws infected with gangrene, dead eyes -

He sucked in a sharp breath of recycled air. Those eyes. They were a lifeless black, unlike Reborn's glittering obsidian orbs – soulless, fearless and merciless. It was the same shade as the Millefiore's corrupted Flame of Night, the hostile reverse of Dying Will Flames. It was as if Byakuran had injected artificial life into the corpses, and had conditioned them to fight until they were set alight. The Vongola referred to such creatures as zombies. After numerous encounters with Millefiore zombie troops, it was discovered that fire was their greatest weakness - they thrashed and shrivelled in the dancing flames.

Dying Will Flames worked too, by neutralising the Flame of Night, albeit they were more challenging to produce because they required sheer determination and desperation. Gokudera's men were all weary from half a decade of fighting, a war that had lasted five years too long. Unlike the Millefiore's soldiers, the Vongola was a human organisation, and humans had much greater limits. While the Vongola had initially fought with energy and conviction, their eventual losses had slowly chipped at their resolves. The war had destroyed their homes, slaughtered their family and comrades, and placed everyone in a state of turmoil. No one spoke of it anymore, but it was painfully obvious – at least one person committed suicide every week, others suffered from existential crisis, and most had lost their sense of direction.

Above all, they had lost Sawada Tsunayoshi, their tenth boss and closest friend. The war had stolen the young boss at the tender age of twenty, and widowed his newly-wed wife before they could settle down. Sawada Kyoko was probably hurting the most – not only had she lost someone she had loved since childhood, but her parents and her best friend, Kurokawa Hana, had not survived either. Her mourning could always be heard throughout the Base. Gokudera, who had initially felt irked by her incessant crying, could no longer blame her. At times, all he wanted was to curl up and let out his grief, as Doctor Shamal kept advising him. But he was a leader of the Vongola now, which meant he had duties and a strong façade he had to keep to inspire his Family.

Losing their leader in midst of a crisis had been a devastating blow to the Vongola. According to the Famiglia's tradition, only a member with Vongola blood could succeed a deceased boss. However, with the death of Vongola Nono in the war's first year, soon after Tsunayoshi had died, and the more recent assassination of Iemitsu, there were no more legitimate heirs remaining. The best choice was obviously Xanxus, who had proved himself extremely worthy after burning down the Millefiore's Italian Base and seizing back the Vongola's territory. While the Varia's leadership could aid Europe and free their allies, Japan was nonetheless still half a world away. All airports had been bombed, and the enemy closely monitored the sky and oceans. Ergo, the Vongola in Japan were stranded and forced to retreat to their Base and wait.

They had then turned to Gokudera, Tsunayoshi's right hand man, for guidance. For as long as the war, he was their leading strategist and battle planner. At first, he had wanted Reborn to be the next boss - despite being trapped in an infant's body, Reborn was one of the strongest in the world, and he always knew what to do. That idea was then crushed when he found the infant in the briefing room a week later, unconscious with his favourite espresso spilt over his paperwork. After extensive medical examinations, Shamal had detected a peculiar mutation developing in the infant's body from a miasma the Millefiore had been radiating into the atmosphere. They had waited several sleepless nights for the good news – even Shamal understood the severity of the problem and never once complained about Reborn not being female – but when the infant re-emerged from the intensive care unit, they were hit by another heart-stopping blow.

Kyoko and Haru had immediately run from the room, choking in tears. Those that remained were Tsunayoshi's former Guardians, Shamal, Fuuta, Bianchi and Lal Mirch. Shamal and Lal had been silent for most of the time, lost in their guilt – Shamal, for being unable to save his patient, and Lal, for being the last surviving Arcobaleno. Lambo, Fuuta, Chrome and Ryohei had openly cried. Yamamoto had a determined look on his face, while Hibari and Bianchi's eyes were narrowed with absolute rage.

And Gokudera – he had simply stood there, torn by grief and then realising the full weight of the burden Reborn and Tsunayoshi had forced upon him. In that moment, the world came crashing onto his shoulders, and he couldn't escape no matter how much he wanted to run, to be that reckless, immature child he once was. He _couldn't_ escape. Not when Tsunayoshi, Vongola Nono, Iemitsu and Reborn were gone. He couldn't expect aid from Xanxus either, as the Varia was too occupied with fighting their own war in Italy. In that moment, Gokudera's world had blurred and shook with insecurity. They only had physically and emotionally wounded soldiers and weary former Guardians to defend their Base. There was plenty to be paranoid about too – with the massive number of survivors they had taken in, their food supplies were diminishing rapidly. Furthermore, the Flame of Night not only killed people, but an unlucky percentage of the dead mutated under the Flames to become zombies. These converted humans were called the Infected.

Giannini, the Vongola's technology expert, had created an enhanced security system throughout the Base that had managed to keep them safe for five years. It was designed to protect the people inside from Infection brought from above ground. As the virus could be passed from blood to blood, the G-Security System had installed detectors and disinfecting devices to kill the virus before it spread. While the System was there for beneficial reasons, the frequent checks and tests made everyone uneasy. There was also the question of how long the System will hold, and if anyone would be able to control it in case Giannini fell ill.

There were too many questions, each one picking at any sliver of certainty they had grasped. Gokudera didn't know how much time they had left, or if they would live to see the next day. Yet somehow, they always did, for the last few years. But even Lambo could tell that they were reaching their breaking point.

The elevator _ding_ed and Gokudera gently massaged his head. He picked himself up from the floor and patted the dust off his Flame-proof suit, just as his phone beeped. He took his time drawing out the device, his stomach turning with anxiety when he skimmed over the message. Then he let out another sigh. It was only an Amber Zone alert from the G-Security System, warning him of Infected sightings at Namimori Cemetery. Eliminating the threats was something even an untrained Mafioso could accomplish, but if it gave Gokudera a reason to _do_ something other than wait, he would accept it gratefully.

A breath of smoky air hissed at his face as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. He climbed a short flight of stairs and pushed the loose board from the ceiling, taking in a deep gulp of fresh air. The air above ground wasn't exactly fresh – it was still lightly tainted by smoke, blood and disinfectant – but it was a huge improvement from the recycled air in the Base.

There was hardly anything left in Namimori. Nothing remained on its surface but shattered dreams, the stench of fire and rot, and the silence of death. It was a complete wasteland - the vibrant lights and shops that had first drawn Gokudera to the town were reduced to dull rubble, ash grey upon charcoal. The only remnants of buildings were their steel skeletons limp in the blood-tasting wind. Cracks formed along the concrete, inviting dampness and weeds to rot within the gaps. Somewhere in the distance was the rolling of thunder, promising rain. He wondered when the sky would finally cry, releasing its pain until their wounds could heal at last.

He wondered if the cold, familiar guilt could be washed away, and if he could forgive himself for failing to protect his boss. The guilt was a painful reminder, a form of self-punishment, for living when life was denied from someone who deserved it manifold times more. More than anything, he wondered if there would be a time in the future where they could finally sit back and watch the fireworks above ground, returning to their insouciant days, laughing together and knowing at heart that all this fighting had been _worth it_.

Gokudera tilted his head back. He couldn't see the sky anymore, the same sky he knew and loved. Darkness had eaten up the sun and the stars, until nothing but a suffocating, black blanket loomed above. He felt like he was incarcerated in a large coffin, clinging to old memories and fantasies as his only hope for survival.

He lit a cigarette and sauntered down the road to Namimori Cemetery. He missed the distant singing of the birds, something he had previously taken for granted. If the silence had any uses however, other than to let him well in his angst, it merely allowed Gokudera to finish his job faster. Soon enough, he could hear a low wheezing from north side of the cemetery, about a hundred metres away. Since it was a small task and he didn't want to disturb the dead any more with his usual dynamite, he removed his gun from its holster.

He concentrated for a moment, until the barrel started to glow red with his Dying Will Flames. He aimed and fired at the first Infected, a middle aged man with half his face ripped off. The woman beside him, probably his wife, screamed, her unfocused eyes twitching before she began to stalk towards Gokudera. She ran into a headstone, tripped and the silveret blew her brains out before he shot another five wandering undead.

As soon as the Flame bullets hit home, the Infected began to writhe and shriek in agony. Their bodies shimmered red as they slowly disintegrated under the heat. Unlike Millefiore's soldiers and high ranking officers, who had a high concentration of the Flame of Night, the civilian Infected population were weak in comparison. It was still an ordeal though, knowing that they had been human once. More often than not, considering that the Vongola Base was located underneath Namimori, Gokudera had killed people he'd known during his school days. Those missions were the hardest, and he never forgave himself for his actions.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and ran a hand through his messy hair. He suddenly felt so tired, so sick of it all. He'd never asked for any of this – the war, the leadership, the responsibility. He just wanted to be Tsunayoshi's trusted advisor, best friend and second in command. And maybe, since his boss had married, he wanted to find love too. He'd never tried, always smothering his crushes so they wouldn't get in the way of work, but now he knew it was too late. Beyond his confident exterior, Gokudera was merely another broken man, his ability to feel affection lost somewhere between his guilt and grief.

As soon as the G-Security System confirmed that there were no more Infected in the area, the silveret seated himself on the burnt grass. He honestly hadn't expected that he would return to Namimori Cemetery, which was near where his boss had been buried. He avoided these places religiously after Reborn's radiation poisoning, unable to face his lost comrades' deaths. They wouldn't forgive him for failing them, for giving up another important life when such sacrifices didn't necessarily bring salvation.

"Hayato."

He jumped to his feet, gun pointed in the direction of the voice. He cursed his inattentiveness and his tendency to lose himself within his thoughts. If a Millefiore soldier had approached him, he would have already been dead – or worse, captured. Then he'd be taken to the Millefiore Headquarters, tortured to surrender information and then killed. He supposed that they could always brainwash him too, and plant him back at the Vongola Base so he could lead his Family to their ruin. Then they would all die, the last five years of fighting would have been in vain, and Tsunayoshi, Vongola Nono, Iemitsu, Reborn and all the others who died for the Vongola would never give him peace.

Fortunately, it was just Bianchi who had called out to him, the only living member of his own family. Over the past few years, Gokudera had grown to be more tolerant and accepting of the relationship he had with his half-sister. Although she had scarred him for life, and looking at her face still gave him vicious stomachaches, the silveret secretly admired her strength. Like Kyoko and Lal Mirch, Bianchi had lost her lover to the war. But instead of falling apart as Tsunayoshi's wife had, the pink haired woman had remained emotionally intact. She had raged silently, using her feelings to fuel her determination.

She looked after Gokudera too, forcing him to sleep and making sure he ate his meals. She also listened to his frustrated rants without judging. Bianchi was one of the only people he could trust and open up to, even when her concern was overwhelming and irritating at times, like now.

"Did Shamal send you?" the silveret asked hoarsely. He dropped his cigarette onto the ground and stamped it out, reluctant to turn around. "I don't need babysitting."

His sister was patient, a little too patient for his liking. "What makes you think this was an order?"

He shrugged. He'd merely assumed. It was around noon, so there were two more hours before Shamal's one-man shift in the control room ended. In the Base, they ran on a nocturnal schedule. Zombies and the Infected were significantly weaker at daytime, so that was when people slept. During nighttime, most people were awake and alert. Since the Base was underground and received no light from above, the change was relatively smooth. As Namimori never recovered from the bombings, it was dim outside too. There was just enough light to detect enemies, but the warmth and luminance of the sun had become a distant memory.

"I'm just worried about you, Hayato. We all are."

"Worry about yourself." He meant it too – Bianchi had as much to worry about as he had, and Gokudera didn't want to burden her even more. His rants were enough – he'd hoped she wouldn't discover his night escapades above ground, and find reasons to be his bodyguard until he promised to stay rooted to the Base. Bianchi was a skilled strategist too, so she had long shifts during the day. Furthermore, Gokudera gave her tasks he could only entrust her to do. Making her give up her sleeping hours was something he never had the intention of doing.

"But you're my little brother, so it's my duty to watch over you," she replied, a ghost of a smile upon her lips.

Gokudera lit another cigarette and sighed. He was going to retort, but a noise from behind caught their attention. A moment later, a young child with a wounded leg limped forward, dragging a large stuffed animal. His eyes looked normal, though his wound was critical. From close up, he could see the bite marks that had pierced the skin. The boy had most likely been attacked by the Infected horde Gokudera had destroyed earlier, and would develop symptoms within the next hour. Steeling his resolve, the silveret raised his gun –

"_M-Mummy…_" the boy wheezed between sobs, "_W-Where are you, Mummy?_"

The silveret closed his eyes, his aim wavering. "Even children are now involved," he said quietly to himself. When he refocused, he found the boy curled up before a grave, rocking back and forth. He heart ached for the child who had also lost his mother at an early age. Gokudera understood that feeling all too well, and hated himself for his inability to help. He knew the child was beyond help – he couldn't bring anyone with the virus into the Base, and the boy was going to either die or Convert by himself.

The kindest option left was to euthanise the child before he became one of the Infected. Bianchi nodded in understanding and placed her hand on Gokudera's shoulder. "I'll take care of it, Hayato. You should rest up for a bit – you look awful."

Gokudera blinked and was about to protest, but shut up once he had glanced at himself. He _did_ look like a mess. While there were no tears in his clothing, the front of his suit was soaked in Infected blood. The disinfectant prevented the blood from seeping into his pores, but it would take at least half an hour to clean up.

"Child, you must be hungry."

He lit up his third cigarette and watched in silence. Bianchi had approached the child, rubbing his head affectionately while staying clear from his Infected wound. She comforted the boy, and with a snap of her fingers, a purple cake materialised from thin air. Gokudera felt guilty for letting him eat his sister's Poison Cooking. It was a deadly skill Bianchi had mastered, involving the use of Mist Flames to create the illusion of food, and the addition of Storm Flames to destroy one's organs when they had ingested it. Every individual had varying tolerances for Poison Cooking, with Gokudera being almost immune to it and children being the most vulnerable.

He had to close his eyes again when the child screamed. He knew his sister was pinning the child down so he wouldn't bite her. After a long pause, Bianchi joined him again, brushing the ash off her clothes.

"Let's go," she urged him with a light tug, "You need to get some sleep. I'm in the control room tomorrow and I'm halting you from all missions for the time being." She gave him a pointed look. "Even if I have to track your dot on the surveillance map and drag you back."

"You can try," he remarked skeptically.

Their phones beeped at the same time. With a grunt, Gokudera checked his phone. It was another G-Security alert, this time with a Red Zone warning. He hoped Shamal knew to send Yamamoto and Lal Mirch. They were the strongest apart from Ryohei and Hibari, both of whom had close calls with zombies a couple of days ago. The main problem was keeping their strongest duo away from the Red Zone – they enjoyed only the toughest of challenges and Amber Zones were too easy for them.

As soon as Gokudera had put away his phone, another beep sounded. He frowned, surprised to discover that it wasn't from the System, nor from anyone in the Vongola. With the servers around the world down, not many people had access to digital communication. Only Giannini, Shouichi and Spanner's genius abilities had given the main members of the Family the privilege. If he had received a message from an unknown outside number, it could only mean that the Millefiore had intercepted their lines –

**To: Gokudera Hayato**

**From: Unknown**

**Subject: At World's End**

**The time has come. The bringer of change has arrived.**

The message sounded like something an insane cult leader would say, as they waited for the world to end. In Millefiore terms, it probably meant that the enemy was moving in soon. Gokudera felt his pulse race, and his mind throbbed. If they knew the Vongola Base's location and sent troops to place them under siege…

**To: Unknown**

**From: Gokudera Hayato**

**Subject: RE: At World's End**

**Who are you, and how did you get this number?**

To his annoyance, when the reply came, the sender had dismissed his questions completely. Instead the sender's words had become even more cryptic. Gokudera had been expecting impossible demands, like the Vongola's immediate surrender, or some threats at least, but the words he received were oddly neutral.

**To: Gokudera Hayato**

**From: Unknown**

**Subject: RE: RE: At World's End**

**Come before it is too late. You have five minutes.**

Five minutes. _Five minutes_. The ten year bazooka! Could it be –! Hope blossomed in his chest as he ran back to the cemetery, yelling at Bianchi to move on without him. He raced past the maze of gravestones, breathing heavily. The wasteland around him blurred as he moved, until he reached _that place_ –

"Who's there?" he demanded, readying his gun as he burst into the clearing.

A coffin, a sleek black coffin stood at the centre of the clearing, its wood polished clean. It was queer, considering how Gokudera _remembered_ watching it being lowered into the ground. Also, surprisingly, the area smelt like fresh lilies, without a tinge of smoke or rot. Around the area, there was a frame of trees, pieces of nature he hadn't seen in years. The place appeared as if it had been frozen in time, preserving a haunting scene from his memory that marked the beginning of the Vongola's downfall.

Except the lush trees shouldn't have been there. Gokudera was _there_ at his boss' funeral. He was there when the Millefiore had arrived, incinerating the sacred ground to ashes as a cruel mark of victory.

The coffin lid began to slide. Cautiously, the silveret approached the coffin. He could hear something shuffling from within the box, and panicked breathing. When the lid finally came free, he caught a flash of brown –

He felt weak at the knees as the boy inside the coffin sat up. That brown, spiky hair. That pale yellow school uniform. That _Sky Vongola Ring_ looped around his neck. And those warm, brown eyes that he'd dearly missed during all these years…

"T-Tenth?" Gokudera choked out, "Is…that you?"

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><p><strong>AN: And that concludes the prologue of my zombie apocalypse version of the Future Arc. This was very fun to write, and I'm going to try my best to have more chapters rolling in as soon as possible. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed coming up with ideas and actually getting the prologue typed up on Word. :)**

**Zombie - When pure Flames of Night are directly injected into a human being. Also known as "pure" zombies.**

**Infected - Humans converted to "second hand" zombies by pure zombies and other Infected. They quickly spread the virus to non-Infected humans. They are much weaker than pure zombies and can only survive with regular doses of the Flame of Night.**

**Convert/Converted - The process of turning into a zombie. It usually takes one hour.**

**In case you were wondering, yes, the Vindice are part of the story. More information will be revealed in the next chapter, which will be in Tsuna's point of view.**

**Please leave me a review before you go. Thank you for reading, and Merry Christmas!**

**-Mockingjay Rose**

**2014**

**Word Count: 4K**


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